


Strange Horizons

by rainandcoffee



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Arthur Pendragon Returns (Merlin), Arthur vs the modern world, Immortal Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Merlin Has Magic (Merlin), POV Arthur, POV Merlin (Merlin), Post-Series fic, Slow Burn, merlin in modern day, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:55:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainandcoffee/pseuds/rainandcoffee
Summary: Arthur has risen from the Lake of Avalon, into the modern world where he recognizes nothing except Merlin. Merlin is elated to have Arthur back after all this time but wonders what his return might mean and how it might relate to his ominous feeling that something dark has also returned.
Relationships: Arthur/Merlin, Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 13
Kudos: 59





	1. Arthur's Return

**Author's Note:**

> I literally could not get this out of my head. I have no idea how long it will be but here's chapter 1. As always, I apologize for any typos, I'm sure there are far too many I've missed.
> 
> Standard disclaimer: not my characters, not my world, not making money from this, not my circus, not my monkeys.

Arthur huddled in the dark room, letting the darkness settle over him. Only it wasn’t as dark as he’d remembered. Despite the glass in the window and the strange covering over it, light still managed to filter in. The world was too bright and it made him uneasy. He missed the solid blackness of his time and the way the dark could blot everything out. 

And then there was the noise. Even with the windows covered, there was a constant buzzing and the repeated sounds of those beastly machines rumbling past.

Arthur leaned against the wall, crouched on the wooden floor.

This was some kind of work room for Merlin, with a desk and a soft bench seat that Merlin had flattened into a bed for him. 

But Arthur couldn’t bare the thought of sleep. He’d slept for so long in the waters of Lake Avalon, dreaming of battles and faeries and magic and ruin. He’d dreamt of Gwen, an impressive queen leading Camelot into a glorious age of peace. And he’d dreamt of Merlin.

Sometimes, he’d hear Merlin speaking to him in his dreams. 

He had been dead but not dead. Or so Merlin told him. Dead but given to the fae and committed to an enchanted state where he could awaken when the need was greatest. 

Apparently it been eons that had stretched between then and now. Arthur had awoken wet and disoriented on the shore of a lake. The small village around it was bright and loud. A woman had shaken him and asked if he was all right. He could understand her words but they were strange. English, but different somehow. He’d garbled some reply she didn’t understand.

And then Merlin had appeared. 

Arthur had never been so happy to see his manservant, even dressed strangely as he was. Merlin’s smile had been so big that it practically broke the young man’s face. He’d hugged Arthur and Arthur hadn’t had the strength to protest.

But then came the roaring of a monster down the cobbled stones. Arthur had reached for his sword, which was still there, still pristine, still ready to win battles. Only Merlin had not let him attack. He’d pulled Arthur away, urged him into this small cottage on the side of the lake where Merlin apparently lived.

And after a meal and an explanation of what had happened, of how much time had passed, Arthur had needed to retreat. Merlin seemed to understand that somehow and had put him in this room to rest. But how could he rest? 

Surely this was some kind of test, some kind of trial. It certainly didn’t feel real.

The door opened. Light from the main rooms burst in. Arthur squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Sorry,” Merlin said, shutting the door. “Just thought I’d check on you.” 

Merlin stared at him with heavy eyes, his gaze weighted and full of something Arthur couldn’t read. 

“No need,” Arthur insisted. He wanted to be alone, to make sense of this strange happening. Or so he thought. But now that Merlin was there, it felt familiar. Right. 

Merlin sat on the edge of the bed he’d made, close to where Arthur was crouched in the corner behind the desk that sat against the opposite wall. “I cannot imagine how strange it must seem…”

“You look the same,” Arthur said. “Don’t you age?” 

Merlin’s eyebrows rose. Then he smiled. Warmth spread through Arthur’s insides, thawing some of the cold of the lake. 

“I go back and forth. I was old for a while. Then I got tired of it, and showed up as my own nephew, taking over old me’s business. I have to keep changing or people get suspicious.” 

Arthur grunted. “You have a business? What is it, some kind of incompetent servant service?” 

Merlin’s smile widened and more warmth spread through him. At least Merlin was here. Even if everyone else he’d even known was dead and gone. That had to mean something. 

“It’s an apothecary. I make little tinctures and perfumes.” 

Arthur stiffened. “With magic?” 

Merlin’s smile faltered. “Yes. But as I explained earlier, magic is much rarer in these times. It’s all technology, now. Few people have much use for magic these days.” 

Arthur stared at Merlin. It felt like only days ago he’d learned the truth about his servant. His _friend._ Merlin was a sorcerer. Merlin had helped them defeat Morgana and her army at Camlann. Merlin had tried to save him. Arthur had known it was too late. He could feel his wound festering and known he would not survive. But Merlin had refused to give up. 

Merlin, the sorcerer, who had used magic to help Arthur over and over without Arthur’s knowledge. How Arthur had never seen it, never realized… it still boggled his mind. 

And yet all that magic couldn’t heal the wound from Mordred’s blade. 

He reached down instinctively and touched the soft cotton shirt Merlin had given him, feeling where the wound had been. It was gone, of course. Arthur was in tip top shape, not at all like someone who’d been sleeping in a lake. 

Merlin watched him, worry plain on his face. Arthur retracted his hand from where the wound had been and cleared his throat. 

“Why now?” he asked. “Why have I come back now?” 

Merlin shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s a tumultuous time but there have been tumultuous times in the past.” Pain tinged his words and he cast his eyes down. “Each time I thought maybe…” He lifted his hands and turned them palms up. “But you never emerged, so I kept waiting.” 

“You mean to tell me you’ve just been here at the side of this lake this whole time?” Arthur couldn’t believe it. This made no sense. Hundreds of years, centuries stretched out between his death and this time where everything was bright and loud, and only Merlin had endured. Endured and waited for him to come back. 

“Yes,” Merlin said. “I had to be here when you…” He met Arthur’s eyes. The sorcerer’s were now wet, tinged with tears.

A lump formed in Arthur’s throat. He swallowed it back. “You’re not about to start crying on me, are you?” 

Merlin’s smile returned, faint and unsteady. He swept his fingers through his inky hair. He wore a dark blue t-shirt, like the one Arthur now wore, though it was much looser on Merlin’s narrow frame, and strange blue pants. The pants Merlin had given Arthur were softer and gray, with a stretchy waist. They were the only thing he had that would fit Arthur while his wet clothes dried. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” Merlin said.

Arthur wanted to say that he was glad to _be_ back also but he didn’t know if that was true. He didn’t know why he was here in this strange time. Why had he been kept in a state between life and death only to come back now into a world where nothing was the same? Camelot had been gone for centuries, forgotten by the modern world. What good was a king of a kingdom that no longer existed? 

Merlin’s stare was starting to make Arthur itchy, so he stood. 

Merlin jumped to his feet as well, mirroring Arthur’s movements as he so often had. 

“I should get some sleep,” he lied. 

Merlin’s face did that thing it had done so many times before, where things crossed over his expression and he tried to pull them back, to hide whatever he was thinking. Arthur had assumed many times it was criticism of the prince’s decisions or some argument he decided not to start, but now he wondered how often Merlin had been thinking of his secret and his inability to tell Arthur the truth. 

Arthur stepped closer to his servant—it wasn’t hard in this small room—until he was only inches away. He could feel the heat radiating off Merlin’s body. Arthur still felt cold down to his bones. 

“What aren’t you telling me?” Arthur asked, voice low out of habit, as if afraid he might be overheard. 

Merlin shifted uncomfortably and looked askance. He was hiding something. “There’s a lot I need to tell you. A lot you need to catch up on. But I think it’s best not to overdo it.” He started to reach out, perhaps to hug Arthur again, but then dropped his arms. “Get some rest, Arthur. Tomorrow we’ll get you proper clothes and I can answer all of your questions.” 

Arthur gave Merlin a hard look, one that had often provoked more from his servant. But his time, Merlin just retreated, closing the door behind him. Arthur was left in the noisy, bright night in a tiny, unfamiliar room to wonder at his return. 

*

Merlin hated to let Arthur out of his sight. After centuries of waiting for him to emerge from the lake, wondering if it would ever even happen, having him back felt like a miracle. Merlin wanted to keep Arthur close, lest he somehow slip away again. 

But Arthur had always needed space to process things. If one tried to get too close to him when he was pensive and making sense of things, he would push them away. 

Still, it took all his will power not to keep opening the door to make sure Arthur was really there, solid and whole and living. The sight of him damp and confused on the shore had taken Merlin’s breath away. He’d waited for so very long. He’d survived regimes and wars and new governments, whole eras of development and change, and through it all, he’d expected Arthur to come back.

And then suddenly he had. 

Well, not suddenly. 

There had been that strange darkness on the horizon and the uneasy feeling that something evil had returned. Merlin could not explain it. But he could feel that something that shifted. Some wind had changed. 

Merlin did not practice much divination and seers with real power were often hard to find in a sea of pretend psychics and mediums. It was funny to Merlin how far the world had come. Few people even believed in magic anymore, or so they would claim, and yet fake magic thrived. 

Merlin had no idea what was coming but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was. Which perhaps explained why Arthur was back now, to defeat it. Or help Merlin defeat it. 

He didn’t know which. Or maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe the fae’s spell had just faded. Maybe they, too, were gone and Arthur had simply woken up like a princess in a fairytale snapping awake because the witch’s powers no longer held sway. 

Merlin stood, went to the door of his small office, and pressed his ear against it. He could hear Arthur moving around. Still there.

Merlin forced himself to leave Arthur be. For now. It was almost midnight. He did need to rest. Whatever danger was looming on the horizon, whatever had brought Arthur back, Merlin knew they’d both need to prepare and be ready. 

He went into his modest bedroom. It was about twice the size of his office on the opposite side of the main living and kitchen area. He had a queen bed because he’d gotten it on sale and tan colored blankets. All of the modern bedding patterns were to busy for him to sleep on. 

He changed into pajamas, brushed his teeth in the bathroom off his bedroom, and then crawled into bed.

Merlin lay awake for hours, replaying the mental image of Arthur on the shore, blond hair dripping, brow furrowed in confusion as a woman in jeans tried to help him. Arthur was alive. Arthur was here. 

Merlin got up. He padded across the hardwood floors to the small office. He listened and heard nothing, so, with the lights in the living room off, he cracked the door. 

Arthur was sprawled out on the futon. He had fallen asleep, his blond hair falling into his face, one arm sprawled up over his head. His sword lay under the futon mattress, hilt close enough for Arthur to reach over and grab if needed. His lips were parted and he breathed heavily, shifting in a fitful sleep. 

Merlin watched his chest rise and fall for what seemed like an eternity. And then he crossed the house, pulled a pillow and blanket off his own bed and dropped it on the floor beside the futon. He curled up on the ground in his makeshift bed and fell asleep listening to Arthur’s soft snores.


	2. Dark Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur contends with things like alarm clocks and ordering breakfast, while Merlin still grapples with the reality that Arthur is really returned to him. But something sinister is lurking nearby....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another installment. Still very slow burn, but Arthur did just crawl out of a lake so... you know.

A shrill sound broke through Arthur’s fitful sleep. Heart pounding, he grabbed his sword and jumped up on top of the makeshift bed. His eyes darted back and forth, searching for the source of the piercing sound.

A moan drew his attention and he saw Merlin curled in a blanket on the floor. The dark-haired young man opened one eye and yawned. He saw Arthur standing over him on top of the bed, sword drawn. Relief washed over Merlin’s face, as if he had been afraid Arthur might slip off in the night. 

“What is that awful noise?” Arthur demanded. 

“That’s my alarm,” Merlin said. 

“Alarm? Are there intruders?” Arthur whispered. 

Merlin rolled his eyes and pushed the blanket off. “My morning alarm.” He got up and left the room carelessly, not concerned there might be a threat outside the door. A moment later, the noise stopped. 

Arthur lowered his sword and climbed down from the bed, carefully easing out of the small room. Merlin was in the kitchen pouring herbs into a mug and stirring vigorously. The smell was sweet and strange and Arthur’s stomach growled. 

“You can make us breakfast,” he said. “I’m starving.” 

Merlin had fed him some stew last night but Arthur hadn’t eaten much. His thoughts had been whirling around him and everything was strange. Even the stew tasted funny, like nothing he’d ever eaten before, though he’d had stew plenty of times. Not bad—Merlin’s cooking was always good—just strange. 

“I have a better idea,” Merlin said. “Let me shower real quick.” 

“Shower?” Arthur asked, incredulous. He was annoyed that Merlin wanted to do anything before doing the thing he’d asked, and more annoyed still that he didn’t know what a shower was. 

“It’s like a bath but the water falls on you. You can take a bath, though, if you prefer.” 

“Are you saying I need a bath?” Arthur asked, glaring at Merlin and daring him to answer in the affirmative.

Merlin merely smiled that infuriating, unrestrained smile of his. Warmth spread through Arthur’s midsection. “Just give me ten minutes. And drink this.” He handed Arthur a mug. 

Arthur smelled it. It had a faint odor of herb and something floral. “What is it?” 

“Just drink it,” Merlin said. 

Arthur did. It tasted sour, not at all like it smelled, and he nearly spit it out. “Is this some kind of joke?” Merlin wouldn’t meet his eyes. Arthur looked down at the mug, the slimy dredge of his drink turning a faint purple. “It’s magic?” 

“It’s a potion—"

Arthur froze and the mug slipped from his hand. It hit the floor and cracked into several pieces.

Merlin bent down to pick up the pieces and Arthur did the same, gathering chunks of porcelain in his hands. Merlin met his eyes, raising his brows in question.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” Arthur said, uneasily. He hadn’t, but he also hadn’t wanted to drink something magical in nature. Then again, how many times had Gaius or Merlin given him something that had, in retrospect, obviously been magical? Potions for sleep, for stress, for vitality…

Merlin dumped the remains of the mug into a trash receptacle. “I should have warned you. Old habits.” 

There, Merlin even admitted it. Arthur wanted to be angry, but nothing Gaius or Merlin had ever given him had hurt him. It had always healed his ills or wounds, cleared the fog in his head, and restored him. 

Arthur rolled his tongue around his mouth, trying get rid of the floral taste. “What is the purpose of it?" 

“It’s an enchantment so you can understand people and they can understand you.” 

Arthur frowned deeply. He remembered the woman at the shore who’d tried to help him speaking in her strange tongue. “Aren’t we by the Lake of Avalon? This is my homeland. Why shouldn’t I be understood?” 

Merlin smiled faintly again. “Language has changed, Arthur. If you want to know what’s going on, the potion is the best way.”

Arthur didn’t like it. He didn’t want to need magic at all, let alone for something as vital as communication. 

Merlin punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’re a smart man. Should only take you a few years to acclimate.” 

Arthur glared at him. Merlin grinned and disappeared into the little room with the tub and closed the door.

Arthur stood there entirely discombobulated. Here he was in this funny little house with things that whirred and buzzed, apparently flung so far into the future that he couldn’t understand the language of his own people, and yet Merlin was still teasing him. Strange how that little bit of familiarity was the only thing keeping Arthur from feeling utterly lost. 

*

Merlin and Arthur sat at the table of a small little tavern attached to a lakeside inn. The waitress had brought Merlin a steaming mug of something without even asking and then giving Arthur a hard once-over. 

“Who’s your friend?” she asked Merlin, beaming at him. 

“This is Arthur.” Merlin gestured toward him. “He’s from… Albion.” 

“Oh, a visitor, eh? Well, welcome to our little lakeside village. Merlin is great tour guide. Knows all the local history. I dare say you take after your grandfather, young man.” She winked at Merlin. 

Despite being annoyed at having drank a magical potion, Arthur was grateful he could understand the woman. She handed him a large, flat book. “Coffee?” she asked. 

Arthur looked at Merlin. He didn’t know what coffee was. 

“Just water for him,” Merlin said. 

“Sure. What else can I bring you?” 

Arthur said, “Breakfast.”

The waitress laughed nervously, as if unsure if it was meant to be funny—it certainly wasn’t and Arthur did not understand why this serving woman was struggling so hard at her job. After a second, she said, “I’ll give you blokes a minute.” 

“Why is everything in this time so difficult?” Arthur groaned.

Merlin’s gave him a slight smile. “It’s just different, Arthur. You’ll get use to it, I promise.” Desperation underpinned the words, as if Merlin was willing them to be true as he spoke them. 

Arthur shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “It makes no sense. Why not a thousand years ago? Why not back when Gwen was alive? Why not a lifetime after, so I could see what Camelot became?” 

Merlin shook his head, brow furrowed. Pain tinged his eyes. “I don’t know. I asked myself the same question with every passing year. Why it wasn’t time yet, why you could not rise out of the lake and be the king you were destined to be.” 

The dreadful servant woman returned. “Well, what’ll ya have?” 

Arthur raised his hands in exasperation. Merlin ordered for both of them.

*

Merlin watched Arthur eat a ham steak, several sausages, beans, and toast. At least his appetite was back. Merlin had a stack of pancakes and eggs, but he didn’t taste anything. He couldn’t stop stealing glances of Arthur. All those years, he’d clung to his memories of Arthur’s face, his voice, scared they might fade away and he wouldn’t be able to recall the timber in his voice when Arthur said his name or the way Arthur looked at him when he thought Merlin wasn't watching. 

Now here was his king and his friend, risen from the dead, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants and seated a booth at the Lakeside Diner. He wished he could show Gwaine, or Gwen, or Gaius. He ached for his friends all the time, but now that Arthur was here that ache seemed to stretch into a chasm. 

Cindy, the server, watched from the counter, very obviously gossiping about Merlin’s new friend with one of the dishwashers. 

Arthur put down his fork and knife on his nearly empty plate. “At least you’re still good for bringing me food.” 

“I’ve waited hundreds of years to ensure you had a decent breakfast, sire,” Merlin said sarcastically. He ignored Arthur's reproachful look. 

Cindy came over and cleared their plates. “So, what are you gentlemen up to today?” 

Merlin started to give some non-answer about sight-seeing when something outside caught his eye. The swirl of a black cloak. Merlin stiffened and turned his attention to the window, but there was nothing but a man walking his dog along the shore of the lake.

Arthur had noticed and was also staring out the window, eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon for danger. The tower loomed in the distance on the island in the center of the lake. But it, too, looked the same as always. 

“There’s someone in the tower,” Arthur said.

Merlin squinted, but he couldn’t make out anything. 

“No one’s over on the island, love,” Cindy said. Merlin startled. He’d forgotten she was there. “You can get to it by boat but most people prefer not to. Got a strange air about it. Ask Merlin. Locals know better than go over there.” 

Merlin met Arthur’s eyes and they had a silent exchange, and without a word, both of them knew what they were going to do next. 

*

Lake Avalon, as it was now called by locals, was a decently-popular tourist destination in the summer but locals tended to avoid the lake itself. Occasionally someone would try fishing and then return with stories of strange things in the water and eerie sounds to regal the town. Tourists might rent boats or go for a swim, but most of them didn’t stay out long, either. 

Merlin borrowed a row boat from Mrs. Hanforth. He'd never seen the woman use it, but she was happy to lend it out. 

Now he and Arthur stood on the shore of Lake Avalon, not far from where Merlin had watched Arthur’s life slip away. Ice clutched his heart like a vice and he reached out, grabbing Arthur’s arm without even thinking.

Arthur stared at him, surprised, but he didn’t push Merlin off, either. “Don’t tell me you’re scared, Merlin.” 

Merlin let go and tried to steady his breathing. Arthur was here, solid and alive. He wasn’t going to die again. Merlin would not let it happen. Not now, not ever. He would use every ounce of magic at his disposal to make sure of it and his magic had grown in the intervening years. 

Something moved at the top of the tower, passing one of the windows. Arthur had been right. Someone was there. 

In all his time living on the shores of his lake, staring out at the water, Merlin had never seen a hint of anyone in the tower. Tourists on the island, sure, though they fled fast. But nothing more. 

His heart pounded. He remembered the swirling darkness in his mind, the feeling of something evil on the horizon. He met Arthur’s eyes and without a word, they got in the boat and headed toward whatever awaited them. 

They were halfway across when Merlin felt a surge of power. The sidhe’s barrier. It made most people turn back and Merlin watched Arthur struggle against the instinct to row toward the island. But Arthur was as dauntless as ever. 

Merlin’s heart swallowed. He’d missed Arthur so much that he hadn’t even realized how badly he’d needed him back until he was here.

“If you don’t stop smiling like an idiot, I will throw you out of this boat,” Arthur threatened. 

“Good luck with the fae, then,” Merlin said. “I’m happy to let you contend with them alone." 

Arthur did a half roll of his eyes but kept rowing. 

They dragged the boat on the shore on the island. Merlin could tell immediately they were being watched. Arthur sensed the danger, too, and kept his sword drawn as they approached the tower.

It looked like something out of a fairy tale. The stones old and crumbling in places, covered in moss. It looked like it might collapse at any moment.

The door was wood that should have rotted away centuries ago but was still solid as ever. It wasn’t locked but it was hard to force open, presumably after years of being shut. Arthur had to exert some effort, but he managed to pull it open and they went in.

The inside was covered in dust and cobwebs. There were no foot prints and no hint that anyone had been here in decades. Blood thrummed in Merlin’s ears. He could sense a powerful presence.

The door slammed shut behind them. Arthur turned, sword out, rotating slowing around, waiting for an attack. 

Blue swirls of magic rose up from the floor. The ghostly, transparent shadow of a woman formed in front of them.  
Merlin took a step back. It couldn’t be. 

Arthur didn’t move. He kept his sword out but his jaw dropped as he stared the magical form.

“Morgana?”


	3. Ominous Warnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Merlin encounter Morgana. Is she real? A ghost? Some kind of trick? As they struggle to untangle the sidhe's warning, Arthur tries to sort out a lot of complicated feelings.

Morgana smiled at her brother, ignoring Merlin. There was bitterness in her expression, but she looked largely as she had the day Merlin had met her: elegant and coiffed, not a hair out of place. She wore a silken blue gown and her dark hair cascaded lightly around her face. Her features were soft, not as sharp and hard as they’d become in her final years. 

Arthur hesitated, lowering and raising his sword, clearly confused as to what seeing this version of Morgana could mean. Merlin stepped forward again, shaking off the shock. 

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. 

“The sidhe have a strange sense of humor,” she said. Yes, a trace of bitterness, but not the raging fury that had fueled her final years. 

Morgana’s form remained transparent, a trick of magic. A ghost? Merlin had encountered them before, certainly, but Morgana felt different. 

Something moved above their heads, up higher in the tower. Merlin looked up, as if he might see through the ceiling. 

“Who’s there?” Arthur demanded, raising his sword and thrusting it at Morgana.

She smiled. It looked less bitter and more sad, Merlin thought. “Your blade cannot hurt me, Arthur Pendragon. I am not among the living. I am where you belong: among the dead.” 

Merlin sucked in a breath. But Arthur remained stoic. “I’m back for a reason and if that reason is to defeat your evil ways again…” 

Morgana shook her head. “I was angry, Arthur. Uther lied to me—" 

“Uther did worse than that to a lot of people,” Merlin said, unable to keep his fury at bay. “And you didn’t help anyone. You made everything worse and got hundreds killed.” 

Morgana cast her eyes down. “I did what I thought was right. I was fighting for what I was. For what you are.” She dared a glance at Arthur, as if perhaps he might have forgotten Merlin’s secret. “I fought for a kingdom that should have been.” 

“It was,” Merlin said, still angry. “Gwen built it on the back of Arthur’s legacy. But it should have been him. It _would_ have been him if you’d stopped your murderous campaign!” 

The words came out so loud they shook the stones around them and whatever was upstairs went still. That probably wasn’t good. 

“Merlin.” Arthur’s rebuke was soft, but firm. “Let Morgana speak.”

Merlin huffed, but Arthur was right. The sidhe had not brought her spirit here for him to reckon with, much as he’d like to. Merlin hadn’t thought about her in years and the old anger had bubbled out of him on its own but she was here for a reason. 

“I’m here to warn you,” she said. “You may be back among the living but only because there are forces at work that you must defeat. And they know who you are, Arthur. You and Emrys." 

“Anyone could have delivered that message,” Merlin said. “Why you?” 

“As I said, they have a strange sense of humor.” 

“I forgive you,” Arthur said. Morgana’s eyes widened, clearly as stunned as Merlin felt. 

“I did not ask for your forgiveness, Arthur.” 

“But I give it. Uther put you through a private hell I was not aware of.” He glanced sideways at Merlin and Merlin’s stomach clenched. “I don’t pretend to know your struggles. But I would have helped if you had come to me. I wish you had come to me.” Again, he glanced sideways just far enough to catch Merlin’s eye. 

“I didn’t know if I could trust you. You were so busy trying to impress Uther, how was I to know you wouldn’t throw me to the wolves?” 

Merlin’s stomach unclenched and roiled. He was regretting his breakfast. 

“Of course I wouldn’t have,” Arthur said. He finally lowered his sword, pain stretching over his face. “You could have trusted me. I would have kept your secret.” 

“Perhaps. I guess we’ll never know.” Tears welled in Morgana’s eyes and but she didn’t break eye contact with Arthur. “It doesn’t matter now. Now you must face forces darker than anything even I could conjure. I do hope you and your precious Emrys are up to the task.” 

Merlin shot her a look. 

“Good luck, Arthur,” she said. “And Merlin. I have no doubt you’ll need it.” 

With that, her ghostly form faded. Arthur lunged to where she’d been standing and grabbed at the air, trying to hold onto her, but she vanished into wisps of blue smoke. 

Arthur’s shoulders sank. 

“I would have helped her,” he insisted, meeting Merlin’s eyes. His burned intensely with meaning. 

“I know,” Merlin said. He believed Arthur would have tried. Depending on when and how Morgana had approached him, it might not have helped, but he knew now Arthur would have tried. He'd always had a good heart. But of course, Merlin had weighed the same question so many times. He'd spent hours wondering if Arthur could ever believe magic might be a force for good? Now, he thought he knew that Arthur would have done the right thing. But at the time, he'd been so afraid that might not be the case. He couldn't blame Morgana for having the same doubts. 

He started to say something else, but foundation shook beneath their feet. 

*

Arthur had mourned Morgana many times before her death. By the time Merlin ran her through with a sword, he’d already lost her. And yet to see her now, like she had once been, was even more jarring than seeing Merlin appear on the shore of the lake. Arthur had loved her like a sister long before he knew the truth. He never understood how she could turn against him and her friends so quickly and with such cruelty. He’d always blamed it on magic. 

It was only in his final days when he’d learned about Merlin that he had questioned it. If magic wasn’t a dark and corrupting force, what the hell had happened to her?  
He didn’t have time to mull it over now. The building shook more furiously and little pebbles began to shake loose from the ceiling. The entire tower was going to collapse on top of them. 

Before he could order Merlin out of the building—assuming Merlin would listen—tiny blue figures appeared in the air, dancing around them. Arthur swatted at one that got close to his face. It hissed. 

“You owe us, Emrys. We brought him back,” one of them said. 

Merlin glared at the little pixie, unfazed. “And I’ve been a guardian of the lake. We’re even.” 

The building continued to shake. More bits of stone crumbled down. 

“Stop this, now!” Merlin’s tone was so commanding that Arthur stopped short, freezing in place. The little fae creatures continued to buzz around. 

“This is not our doing, Emrys. This is the manifestation of what is to come." 

“Then who is doing it?” he demanded.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. He’d seen Merlin like this before but it was rare for Merlin to be so fearless in the face of danger. Or was it?

It hit Arthur like a ton of stone that of course he’d always been. Arthur had assumed Merlin disappeared in the middle of battles or conflicts because he was hiding or staying out of the way. But that wasn’t true. Merlin had been surreptitiously practicing magic. Helping them win. 

“A force that hopes to destroy you and your King and everything you once stood for.” 

Merlin frowned. It was a deep, contemplative frown, even as the floor shook so hard Arthur had to shift to keep his balance. “That makes no sense. Camelot is gone.” 

Arthur winced. It pained him to hear those words, even though he knew that was true. 

The floor gave another jolt and Merlin lost his balance, nearly falling over.

“We need to get out of here,” Arthur said. Merlin finally looked at him and then nodded in agreement. Arthur tugged at the door but it wouldn’t budge.

“Stand back,” Merlin said. 

Arthur did, for once not arguing. 

Merlin’s eyes flashed gold. He spoke some words in a commanding tone. The door blasted off its hinges. Large stones fell behind them as they rushed outside. 

They both piled in the boat and shoved off into the water as the tower crumbled to the ground. 

Merlin was facing it and kept staring at it, squinting as if trying to make it out. “There’s something strange about the tower.” 

“Oh, you think?” Arthur said, exasperated. “The ghost of Morgana, a bunch of little fae creatures, some kind of monster at the top…” 

The boat seemed to butt up against a wall in the water. Arthur rowed harder and the boat pushed through. The fog cleared immediately. Merlin made a sound. Arthur turned. 

The tower on the island appeared to still be standing, undamaged, as it had been when they arrived. A wave of dizziness washed over him. 

“What happened?” he asked.

Merlin shook his head. “I don’t know. I think that was a warning.” 

“A warning of what?” Arthur asked. 

Merlin met Arthur’s eyes. His gaze seemed to pin Arthur to the spot and his breath caught in his throat. “Something is coming. Something evil. And it’s up to us to defeat it.” 

“Just like old times, then,” Arthur said, tearing his gaze away from Merlin. He didn’t like how flushed he felt when Merlin looked at him like that. How exposed, as if Merlin could see right into the depths of his soul in a way no one else ever had. And yet the moment Merlin turned his head to look back to the shore, Arthur found himself studying his former manservant.

Merlin’s face hadn’t changed much over the centuries. His frame was still narrow but he had muscle, given his ability to propel the boat. His inky hair still fell in his face, his eyes were still piercing and deep. He wore a brown jacket and a blue scarf that looked strikingly similar to the way he’d dressed back in Camelot. There was something different about Merlin now, or maybe something Arthur hadn’t let himself see before. Arthur couldn’t put his finger on it… 

“What?” Merlin asked. “Have I got dirt on my face?” 

Arthur cleared his throat and tore his eyes away. “You made a bargain with the fae?” 

Merlin bowed his head, abashed. Water lapped against the side of the boat as they glided across the water. “For you, Arthur. Like everything else.” 

Arthur’s insides burned, his stomach squeezing. “I didn’t ask you—”

“I know. But I couldn’t bear to lose you. Not forever.” Merlin did meet his eyes then and again there was that strange electricity. 

Arthur swallowed, his throat dry. 

_I would have done the same for you._

The unbidden thought came out of nowhere. Arthur had no idea how to bargain with the sidhe, or if he’d have been able to, but given the choice he knew he would have done it to save Merlin had their fortunes been reversed. 

The boat jerked as the bottom scrapped against the sand. Merlin jumped out. Arthur did the same, and they pulled the back onto the shore, Arthur hurrying out of the water. He’d be happy if he never had to go into a lake ever again. 

On the shore, Merlin kept studying the tower as if it might do something else and give them direction.

Arthur wanted to dry off and frankly, put some distance between himself and this lake. “What now?” he asked.

“The sidhe don’t know what’s coming. This was our one and only warning from them and that’s all they know.” 

Exhaustion weighed on Arthur, sinking into his bones. He’d been back for a day and already there was some faceless threat coming toward them, waiting to attack. And he wasn’t even a king anymore. “What could this evil force possibly want with me?” 

“I don’t know,” Merlin said. And then he looked up. 

"So how do we find out?" Arthur pressed. 

Merlin started to shake his head again, then looked up and smiled faintly. 

“You have a plan?” Arthur asked. 

“An idea. Or at least, someone we can ask so we can learn more about this threat and how to fight it before it’s upon us.” Merlin’s smile widened. “But it's a long journey. We'll have to drive.” 

“Drive?” Arthur asked. “How do you mean?” 

Merlin just laughed slightly, shook his head, and turned to walk toward the village.

“Merlin!” He called. He didn't like the sound of this "drive" business. 

Merlin kept going and eventually, Arthur ran to catch up with him.


End file.
